Blog entry #14 - Class #14

Unpredictable Wedding Day

It’s about 10:00 a.m. and I’m daydreaming behind my steering wheel, went down about five blocks; passed the spooky hidden house at the end of my street, the old brick one, and the blue one with the strange star by their attic window that’s usually decorated every holiday. The traffic light on Chandler and 3^rd Ave. must’ve been green because I don’t remember stopping there. That’s how Chandler Ave looks like, having gone down this street almost every day; it has always looked the same. Somehow that morning I didn’t noticed anything.

I don’t know where my mind was. I had just left home, started driving and picked up my phone to quickly call my boyfriend to let him know I was on my way to the salon.

Hi babi I’m on my way to the salon

Ok, just let me know when you are done there

Ok, I’ll talk to you later bye

Bye babi

Our friends were getting married later on that day. The moment I put my phone down next to me, was when I zoned out. Can’t remember what happened after that. What was I thinking? Perhaps I was doing a check list in my head

I have my dress, my shoes, and did my nails. I still have to do my eyebrows and my hair.

Suddenly, at about 10:05 a.m., I snapped out of it by a crashing impact. It’s too late. I ran a stop sign, I tried to break. By the time I went to a full stop a bus had taken my front bumper. I’m in the middle of an intersection; don’t know what to do. Looked around. I’m okay. Nothing hurts. I put my car on reverse, parked by the curve and called my boyfriend again this time to tell him that a bus had just hit me when I ran a stop sign. I tell him where I am, he’ll come soon he says, he lives just a few minutes away. I called the cops and reported the accident.

Two cop cars, several people all spread around the street and sidewalk, my damaged car, a bus with not much damage, a nervous bus driver who was stuttering and whose hands were shaking, along with my confused self, filled the scene. I can see parts from my car lying in the middle of the street. Many questions about what happened are asked but I don’t know what to say.

I can’t remember officer, I ran the stop sign and by the time I noticed, it was too late.

Three seconds after and the bus would’ve hit the side of the driver’s door; that would’ve been you, consider yourself lucky, the cop says to me.

            No one on the bus got hurt. I got a ticket for running the stop sign and lost a front bumper, thank God that’s all that happened.

It’s about 8:00 pm now, I’m wearing a chiffon red long dress with silver rhinestones on the top border, silver heels, soft make up, and the ends of my hair are curled up. I’m ready to wrap my arm around my boyfriends’ warm arm. He is in a black tuxedo, with a beautiful red rose on the left side of his tuxedo jacket; his sharp fresh haircut takes my breath away. Beautiful bright room, white carpet down the aisle, red pedals all over the floor, the music is playing, we walk down the aisle the wedding ceremony has begun, my bumper less car along with my eighty-five dollar ticket wait outside while we are ready to dance our night away.  

Blog entry #13 - Class #13

Bellingham Review

http://www.bhreview.org/

Established in 1977, Bellingham Review has earned a reputation for publishing established and emerging writers.

Bellingham Review is composed of a varied form and subject matter throughout their publications. Since they have no limit on what they accept, this makes this magazine a place where both genders, young adults, and adults can find something they enjoy reading.  They state that they like to have pieces of palpable quality where their readers can relate to it, and feel the essay as they read it. As I read through their issues I felt the stories messages, which were reflective and touching. They, for instance, included topics related to death, wars, and family.

As I clicked through the website and read through their pieces I noticed that most of the pieces didn’t include pictures or graphics, although CNF pieces can be created this way. Most of the pieces were long, only few were about 4-6 paragraphs long.

Here are a couple of examples of their pieces:

http://www.bhreview.org/decadent-music/

http://www.bhreview.org/before-anything/

Their publication frequency is biannual; one Fall Online Edition and one Spring Print Edition.

What you need to know to submit your work:

• Bellingham Review publishes primarily poetry, nonfiction, and fiction 
• They accept submissions from September 15^th through December 1^st
• They have no limitations on form or subject matter
• Their word limit is roughly 6,000 (So, this is a good place for your long CNF pieces)
• They ask to please not submit additional work until you hear back from the editors (So, you have to submit one piece at a time)
• Reporting time normally varies from one to six months
• There is a $2.00 submission fee that covers production and promotion costs only 
• They claim that no staff members receives anything from this fee

On my research I learned about a contest that they typically run annually:

• The 2014 contest period is currently running, so you can actually submit your pieces now (December 1, 2013 to March 15, 2014)
• They ask to please, send them your best work for a chance at winning $1,000 and publication in their Spring 2015 edition
• Submission fee for this contest is $20.00
• From their home page, if you click on “General Submissions Guidelines” you can actually see how to submit your work: http://www.bhreview.org/general-submissions-guidelines/ 
• From there, click on “Submittable”: https://bhreview.submittable.com/submit (this is the only way you can submit your work)
• Scroll down to the CNF section, click submit, create an account (first time users only) then, you’ll be able to submit your work
• They require a Tittle, and a brief Cover Letter attached to your file
• Acceptable file types: doc, docx, txt, rtf

Blog entry #12 - Class #12

[Tentative Tittles] What Happened On a Wedding Day or

Unpredictable Wedding Day

           It’s about 10:00 a.m. and I’m daydreaming behind my steering wheel, went down about five blocks; passed the spooky hidden house at the end of my street, the old brick one, and the blue one with the strange star by their attic window that’s usually decorated every holiday. The traffic light on Chandler and 3^rd Ave. must’ve been green because I don’t remember stopping there. That’s how Chandler Ave looks like, having gone down this street almost every day; it has always looked the same. Somehow that morning I didn’t noticed anything. I don’t know where my mind was. I had just left home, started driving and picked up my phone to quickly call my boyfriend to let him know I was on my way to the salon. Our friends were getting married later on that day. The moment I put my phone down next to me, was when I zoned out. Can’t remember what happened after that. What was I thinking? Perhaps I was doing a check list in my head I have my dress, my shoes, and did my nails. I still have to do my eyebrows and my hair.

Suddenly, at about 10:05 a.m., I snapped out of it by a crashing impact. It’s too late. I ran a stop sign, I tried to break. By the time I went to a full stop a bus had taken my front bumper. I’m in the middle of an intersection; don’t know what to do. Looked around. I’m okay. Nothing hurts. I put my car on reverse, parked by the curve and called my boyfriend again this time to tell him that a bus just hit me when I ran a stop sign. I tell him where I am, he’ll come soon he says, he lives just a few minutes away. I called the cops and reported the accident. Two cop cars, several people all spread around the street and sidewalk, my damaged car, a bus with not much damage, a nervous bus driver who was stuttering and whose hands were shaking, along with my confused self, filled the scene. I can see parts from my car lying in the middle of the street. Many questions about what happened are asked but I don’t know what to say. I can’t remember officer, I ran the stop sign and by the time I noticed, it was too late. Three seconds after and the bus would’ve hit the side of the driver’s door; that would’ve been you, consider yourself lucky, the cop says to me. No one on the bus got hurt. I got a ticket for running the stop sign and lost a front bumper, thank God that’s all that happened.

It’s about 8:00 pm now, I’m wearing a chiffon red long dress with silver rhinestones on the top border, silver heels, soft make up, and the ends of my hair are curled up. I’m ready to wrap my arm around my boyfriends’ warm arm. He is in a black tuxedo, with a beautiful red rose on the left side of his tuxedo jacket; his sharp fresh haircut takes my breath away. Beautiful bright room, white carpet down the aisle, red pedals all over the floor, the music is playing, we walk down the aisle the wedding ceremony has begun, my bumper less car along with my eighty-five dollar ticket wait outside while we are ready to dance our night away.

Blog entry #11 - Class #11

For my second draft I am thinking on writing about a car accident I experienced on the day my friend was getting married. (I was one of her bridesmaids). That day was a day FULL of different emotions. I was scared, terrified, confused, nervous, happy, joyful, in love, and so on all on the same day. I had never been on a car accident and it was terrible the fact the it occurred on such special day. This is the topic that I feel I would write about the most.

Writing about my learning driving experience is still an option for me I feel like it was a big step I took in my life. I learned after I graduated high school and learning gave me a sense of independence. It took me a long time to learn, my boyfriend taught, which it was great. It gave us a bounding experience and memories that we will always look back too. We can tell out kids in the future that daddy taught mommy how to drive, they'll probably laugh.

Picking a topic is usually tough for me since I always second guess myself about how I really feel about sharing some experiences I've had. 

Blog entry #10 - Class #10

            We were kids when we met and would play together every now and then. I moved to the U.S. so I didn’t see her again until she moved here, to the U.S. We were teenagers by then so I noticed our friendship had changed. Here we became high school friends, just like our moms were back in the day. We became such closed friends that we started telling people we were cousins. We would go together everywhere, we were the best of friends.

About two years after we graduated high school, something happened along the way, something unexplained. After all the movies we saw together, all the pictures we took, all the secrets we shared, all the late night conversations we had, we were just growing apart. There were so many memories but as years went by it was as if we weren’t on the same page anymore. Things just weren’t the same anymore.

We both went our separate ways; I wasn’t there for her wedding, so I didn’t get to see how beautiful she looked on her wedding dress. I didn’t get to fix her dress, her makeup, her hair. I didn’t get to tell her how happy I was for her. I wasn’t there when she found out she was pregnant. I never saw her belly or went shopping with her for the baby. I wasn’t there for the baby shower or when she gave birth. We used to be the best of friends.

September 27^th, 2013 her second baby was born. My boyfriend and I went to see her at the hospital. We entered the lobby and announced ourselves as her cousins, our relationship seem to be getting back to what it used to be. We are sitting in the lobby with the baby’s gift, waiting. “God’s Little Princess” is the name of the book that we got her and a huge balloon tie around it to welcome her.  While I held that beautiful angel in my arms we would remember high school times. We talked about how time had passed, how she was already married and a mother of two. We shared our plans for the future. Everything seem like our friendship was slowly building back. She shared her feelings about being a mom for the first time and I was looking forward to spending more time with her, her adorable toddler and her new baby girl.

A couple of weeks after the baby was born I texted Gabby’s mom to ask her when could I go see Gabby, since Gabby’s phone was disconnected. Her mom replied telling that I could go see her anytime but soon because Gabby was moving to Puerto Rico on 0ctober 23^rd. When I read that text I was surprised, I told my boyfriend right away, whom I was sitting next to in the car. I couldn’t believe it! I got so sad. I started to cry, but I also didn’t understand why. Questions like when would I see her again? and would I see her kids grow? went through my head. Only time will tell, I haven't talk to her since she left. 

Blog entry #9 - Class #9

                                                     The Irony of Life

           It was a white Christmas day and I was landing at Newark International airport after a long flight coming from Venezuela; where I was born. I was coming to the U.S. to live but didn't quite understand that fact at that moment. All I could concentrate on when I was in the plane was the excitement of seeing my mom, who was going to be picking me up at the airport, after three long months of being apart from each other. It felt like it had been longer since I was only 9-years-old then and I had never been away from her that long before. I was wearing black jeans and a blazer since it was winter time here, I thought that blazer was going to be warm enough but apparently it wasn't  I was surprised by that because I had no idea how cold the weather was like here during the winter. My mom was waiting for me with a pink coat for me to wear before going outside. When I put it on, I felt uncomfortable wearing it; the coat was too thick compare to the light sweaters I was used to wearing in Venezuela. I guess I just had to get adjusted to it; little did I know that there were many other things I had to get adjusted to.

After arriving to the U.S. and Christmas; along with the rest of the holiday’s being over, I was enrolled in school. I was in the middle of 5^th grade in my homeland and it wasn't really until I was enrolled in school that I fully understood what coming to a foreign country was all about. I was in a new school, a new country, and with no friends. I was terrified; there was no going back. I couldn't grasp the idea that I wasn't going to go back to my country, my school, and my friends. I was here with my family and that gave me comfort but I was faced with the fact that I had to learn a new language. I also had to learn new ways of doing things differently from Venezuela, for instance once I was enrolled in school, I learned that math problems were solve differently in this country, along with the different measurements that I had learned. I felt as if things couldn't get any worse.

I remember being in school, my teacher spoke Spanish to all the class since I was in the bilingual program. That was very nice actually I felt like I could breathe a little bit more, it helped me feel in place, where I belonged and better about being in a different world as a foreigner at least my teacher and classmates spoke my language but I still had to learn the English language and that was a huge struggle for me. It took me a long time to get the hang of things, and I always felt behind. You would think children learn faster or pick things up pretty quickly but it wasn't the case with me. Besides the language itself I had to deal with security, confidence, fear, and possibly trauma.

Things were so frustrating that even the smallest things made me feel terrible and that led to a huge task for me to overcome. I remember being in 5^th grade in my math class with my Spanish speaking teacher and during that time she was teaching us how to divide. Is all numbers right? How hard could it be? Well, at that moment I realized that it was actually different. What I mean by that is that here they divide backwards; when you are solving a division problem manually you have to draw a line, plug in the numbers and then you subtract and eventually solve the division problem. Well, in my country they draw the line opposite to the line in the U.S., there is no subtraction written and eventually you get the answer.

So, I was sitting in class and this impacted me to the extent that I can picture myself sitting in that class like if it was yesterday. My teacher said to me not to worry and to just solve the way they do it in my country and that with time I’d get the hang of how it is done here. So, I am sitting there, starring at the numbers because guess what? I was in the middle of the school year and I hadn't fully learned the way they do it in my country either. Besides those differences I was confused with the types of measurements they used here. Here in the U.S. inches, feet and miles are the normal measurements instead of centimeters, meters, and kilometers; what a crazy country! I thought. I felt horrible, stuck and I didn't know how to tell my teacher in front of everybody that I didn't know how to solve a division problem or understood the measurements in the math book. So I wasn't only struggling with English, but with Math as well.

As classes came and went I had to practice more at home, probably extra than the regular student. I tried really hard I practice and practice until I finally knew how to do these problems. I remember wanting to go outside and play but being unable to because I had to practice Math problems at home. I was glad at the end that I learned how to solve the division problems. I now think that is actually easier to do it the way we do it here but I also think that, that might be because I never got to fully learn how it is done in Venezuela.

I was very shy and intimidated by all these changes so I was moving forward very slowly. I stayed in the bilingual program for a long time, from the middle of 5^th grade all the way up to senior year in high school; that’s more than average I would think. I stayed for that long because I refused to learn the language, or acknowledge it and practice it, I was in the bilingual program after all. I faked not knowing the language at times because I was refusing to move forward. My teachers and classmates spoke Spanish so I thought I could get away with it. After so long you learn some things regardless so I understood a lot of what people would speak around me but I was so afraid of speaking. I refused to speak or make an effort because I was so intimidated by what was going on around me.

I recall being in 8^th grade and being asked by several teachers different questions in English. They were trying to evaluate how much did I understood the English language because years had passed and I was still in the same E.S.L. level. Questions simple like: what’s your name? how old are you?, although I was already at the level where I knew how to answer these questions I faked not knowing. I stood quite the whole time pretending I had no idea what they were asking me. I refused to move further, I was so afraid of moving to a higher level. I didn't want to learn more.  Time went on and I continued in the bilingual program.

By about sophomore year in high school I was speaking English only when I had to, like to some teachers, personnel in the cafeteria or if anybody needed help translating. But I still didn't feel all that comfortable. I would in a way practice the language in my head or when I was alone. All my friends spoke Spanish and I spoke Spanish at home so there was no need to put into practice what I had learned. When senior year started the school transferred me to regular classes, meaning I was no longer in the bilingual program. So my classmates weren't the same anymore. A couple of the students from the bilingual program were transferred to regular classes as well so I wasn't all that alone.

When I was transferred off the bilingual program I started to put into practice all I had learned silently over the years. I had always enjoyed writing and had personal journals that I kept and use as a hobby. These weren't written in English but the love for writing was always in me. When I graduated high school and went into college, I was confused about what career I wanted to pursue. I was an undecided major for a while until I decided to become an English major since I enjoyed writing so much. How ironic the fact that I had spent my life up to that point refusing to learn the language and I was then deciding to make that as my career. So that brings me to think that maybe the things you refuse the most are those that are going to give you a huge surprise. None of the other careers really capture my attention and I didn't want to go to school for something I didn't fully enjoy. As I was growing up my family moved several times; when we came to this country, when I was in the middle of 7^th grade, when I was in the middle of my senior year in high school, after I graduated high school, when I was a freshman in college… and so on so, all this made me unable to be stable about my decisions. It was only writing what felt like it was that one special thing that wasn't going to change. I always enjoyed it so I couldn't be happier when I finally decided to pursue it as my career.

These learning experiences were tough on me but I have to say that it’s great knowing all I know and seeing who I've become. After overcoming tough challenges in my life I believe I can overcome what’s ahead. From the biggest challenges of my life, great things have been the outcome. Although when I first came to this country I didn't want to learn the language, now is something that I love. I moved several times but when I moved in the middle of my senior year in high school, I am happy to say now that I met my current boyfriend in the High School where I was transferred to at that time. So, I am currently and happily an English Writing Option major; I am pursuing a career that I love and I have met my boyfriend whom I have plans for the future, including getting married and forming a family. I love the fact that I am able to speak two languages and help those who are still in the process of learning the language. I love the fact that I was able to overcome the challenge of learning a new language and learning new ways of solving math problems. Looking back I feel like these experiences inspire me to overcome the new challenges in my life because since I know I was able to overcome it then, I’ll be able to overcome them now. I am happy about where I am now and I look forward to what the future brings. I understand that God has a perfect plan for my life even when I think things don’t make sense. Who would've thought that I was going to become an English Major after not even wanting to speak the language? After all I went through and all the tough changes I would've thought that I was going to be traumatized by these situations but I instead think that the best came out of these experiences. I am a stable person, pursuing a career I love, with an amazing boyfriend and clear about what I want in the future. I greatly look forward to what the future may bring and hope for the best out of my toughest situations. 

Blog entry #8 - Class #8

For my short essay I’ve been thinking about writing about when I dislocated my left wrist. I was about 10 or 11 years old and when I playing around with my siblings and neighbors (mostly BOYS) I felt and dislocated my wrist. If I decide to write about this, I will be writing it in basically one straight scene describing the moment when I was playing, following the moment I felt, our way to the hospital – which was a terrible experience – our time at the hospital and when I finally got home. Throughout the whole time I was terrified and in huge pain. I will be describing in detail the whole process and the emotional effect that it had on me. I never dislocated or broke any other bone again; perhaps I was traumatize and knew the pain that I had gone through so I never played crazy again.

Another option for me is writing about the process of getting my driver’s license and learning how to drive is also an option for me since it was a very emotional experience. Writing about this will have to be in deferent sets of scenes since it occurred throughout an extended period of time as oppose to writing about when I dislocated my wrist. Picking a topic for these pieces has been somewhat difficult for me because I feel like I have to dig into my memories to be able to find something my audience can relate to or understand.  

 

Blog entry #7 - Class #7

              I’m sitting in my room is spring time, the time when you start looking forward to what the summer might bring. There is just always something special about the summer that makes me feel like there is something amazing coming up; new adventures, new memories. I’m getting ready to pack; I’m going on a trip to Peru! I believe I’m going to have the time of my life. Everything is set, I purchased the tickets in January, I talked things over with my boss and she allowed me to take the time off. I just have to plan my packing and wait until the day comes but something happens as I’m planning on what to pack for this amazing trip; something unexpected that I had not realized. 

I was missing one very important thing off my checklist, the money. I was broke. I was about a month away from the trip and I had nothing. I don’t understand how I missed such important factor. Since I bought the tickets in January I thought that I was going to have plenty of time to save so I kinda of miscalculated how much time did I needed to save a decent amount of money to take to Peru – a place thousands of miles away from home – where I was going to be basically alone with no family. I was going with my boyfriend and his family in addition to that I was going to stay and meet his family over there. 

So there I was, I recall having a nervous breakdown in my bedroom as I was trying to plan my packing; I was in my room going through my closet, pretty excited about packing for this amazing trip I was going to take. Although I was nervous because I was going to meet the rest of my boyfriend’s family I was excited about going to a different country with him, making new memories and enjoying the whole experience. There were things I needed to buy to take to the trip and I had not saved any money. I started to worry and tried to add up the paychecks I was going to receive before the trip to see if it was going to be enough. After I added everything I realized it wasn't going to be enough and I couldn't ask anybody to lend me money. I couldn't expect my boyfriend to pay for everything or his family, how embarrassing! So I started to freak out and getting very overwhelmed because I felt like I didn't have a solution to my problem.  What was I supposed to do?

            As I looked around my room I realized I was stuck in a big mess, literally and financially. While picking out what I was going to take to the trip I had turned my room into a big mess and having the stress on me about not having money together with visually seeing the mess I was in, it stressed me out even more.  I was so overwhelmed at that moment that I began to cry. I cried like a baby and my mom was confused she didn't understand what was wrong with me. This was supposed to be a fun trip. All these thoughts started to cross my mind: I’m going to a different country, I have no money, I’m going alone, I’m going to meet my boyfriend’s family, I’m going with all of them like an adult, I’m not a little girl, no one is going to pay for me. So, suddenly I was in this big black cloud in my head where I couldn't find the light. Maybe I was seeing things worse than what they really were but there I was stuck in a black cloud crying for help and I felt like no one could help me. I think today that maybe I was over reacting but at that moment I was very stressed and couldn't really see that there was a solution and that everything was going to be okay. It is in those stressful moments that we tend to lose sight of the future and understand that things are going to be just fine. 

            I can’t recall for how long I was crying for but it felt like it  was for hours until I slowly calmed down. A while after I realized my birthday was coming up right before the trip! So I thought to just ask for cash! That’s all I needed that birthday, in my mind this was the solution for my problem. So I’m looking forward to it and I can’t wait until my birthday arrives. To my surprised once it did I didn't received enough money, at least I didn't think it was enough. So I was upset again. But this time there was no other choice. I couldn't cancel the ticket because that was going to be a lot of money as well. They usually charge you a cancellation fee and it made no sense to pay that money when I had no money. So I decided to just go on the trip since there wasn't another choice, with only the about three hundred dollars I had and that was it. I eventually completed my packing and the day arrived, off we were to the airport until we landed in Lima, Peru.

            We get off the plain late at night and we had to sleep in the airport that night. Our second plane to a different city in Peru, where we were actually going to stay, wasn’t going to come until about 6:00 am the next day. There were no chairs in the area where we were allowed to wait so we all sat on top of our bags or laid on the floor. I have my financial stress in the back of my head and on top of that I’m laying on hard floor, where I’m going to spend the night. Morning came and we boarded the plane, finally! I’m sitting on something soft inside the plane. We arrived, we rest for that day and then after I’m introduced to some of the family members I see everyone is so nice and welcoming.  The next couple of days before we really go anywhere to visit, the family planed out how the trip was going to be like. They established that we wouldn’t be staying in any hotels because wherever we were going to visit there were family members around where we stayed. When I heard that this was what we were going to be doing I felt like there was a load off my back because I wasn’t going to be spending money on hotels. So my financial issue was clearing up.  

            The days kept going on and things were just so nice. Money wasn’t a problem anymore because what I had was enough to buy food when needed or entrance tickets when we visited different places. As the days went by I was just enjoying everything. I was calm; I was happy and excited about all the beautiful places I was seeing. When I was in the mist of my problem I was overwhelmed and I couldn’t really picture myself having a good time, I thought that this trip was going to be the worst ever because I was just so stressed. Seeing me enjoying the trip was incredible. I was thrilled with the experience. My biggest concern was that I wasn’t going to have enough money but I did, everything just ran smoothly, it could’ve not been more perfect. The family welcomed me in a very special way so that was great as well.

            I remembered going to all these new places and taking pictures in almost every corner. I took over one thousand pictures during those two weeks, that’s more that 70 pictures a day. This was an unforgettable experience for me at this beautiful country. I would definitely do it again and I’ll be able to have way less stress because I know what to expect exactly because I have already been there. Suddenly as my trip went by, I felt like a kid in Christmas day because I was just so happy.

Blog entry #6 - Class #6

I will be writing my essay about a trip I took to Peru over a summer a few years ago. There are two main things I want to make sure I include on my essay. First, the fact that I realized that I didn't have enough money to take this trip and I was stressing so much about this; also, the fact that it was the first time I was going so far away without any member of my family. I was going with my boyfriend and his family and it was also the first time I was meeting the entire portion of the family living in Peru. I didn't know what to expect, I didn't know if they were going to like me or not I was extremely nervous. Everything in the end turned out okay, actually better than what I thought; it was one of the best trips I've ever taken.

I had bought the tickets at the beginning of the year so being that that was all paid for I thought I had plenty of time to save money before the actual trip in the summer. I also thought that I had all I needed to take but a month before the trip I realized I had no money. I had not saved and the trip was around the corner. I was going thousands miles away from home to a place totally new with no family. I needed money, I should've saved. So I remember being in my room completely overwhelmed and stressed out. I started to cry because I was just so stressed out. This was supposed to be an exciting trip. I was going to Peru! This was supposed to be fun. But there I was, crying like a baby completely overwhelmed. My birthday was coming up, right before the trip so all I asked for was cash! I was broke It was like even the smallest things made got me stressed out. I also remember being in my room about a week before the trip I was trying to put together what I was going to take over there. I started noticing I didn't know what I was going to take with me, how the weather there was going to be like, what shoes was I going to wear. I was overwhelmed about everything. Between the thought of what if they don’t like me and not knowing how to present myself I was freaking out. I was so worried.

So, fast-forward a little I eventually got some cash, which I thought wasn't going to be enough but then it was, gathered some outfits and went all the way to Peru with only that. When I arrived a few days after I realized that I felt like the load was off my back I could finally relax and enjoy my vacation.

This was an unforgettable experience for me once I arrived to this beautiful country, the family was very nice and it turned out I had enough money and I had a blast. I would do it again and I’ll be able to have way less stress because I know what to expect exactly because I have already been there. I was so happy during this trip once I knew everything was going to be okay that suddenly, I was a kid in Christmas day. 

Blog entry #5 - Class #5

Revising Plan

Yesterday’s class was really helpful. It’s always nice to have someone read your work, receive feedback, and talk about how u can better your work. Being able to read other students' work was able to open my mind and come up with things I want to change. I will definitely be adding more detailed scenes to my story. There are certain scenes that are recorded in my head of how days went by, details that I remember like what was I wearing at those moments. Details that are needed to add creativity and “drama” to my essay. I will be expanding on the idea that it is an irony the fact that I’m an English major and when I first came to this country I didn't want anything to do with it.


I will also think about what kind of segmentation I want to use to better deliver my message and allow my reader to connect easily with the story. I am thinking that possibly chronologically will be what I’m going to concentrate on, and I will also work on trying to have my reader get the point of my story at the end of the story. Or have then sort of have a feeling of how the end is going to be like as they read but not tell them until the end so that it hooks them on the entire story.

In my intro I will be adding the scene when I arrived to this country, the airport, the happiness I felt knowing that I was going to see my mom – I’ll explain what’s that about. I will be particularly adding the scene where I was in 8th grade and I was asked by a teacher what my name was. How old was I? and very simple questions of that nature, these were questions that I remembered knowing what they were asking me and knowing the answers to those questions in English in my head but I faked that I didn't know because I didn't want to speak English.


I will be expanding on the reflection and connection with my reader like, expanding in the fact that going through this made me stronger. I’ll give more detail on how I realized this. I will be reflecting on how come I became an English major. I will be sharing about the fact that I met my boyfriend, how important that has been for me and basically the good outcome of coming to this country even though at the beginning I was struggling. Who I am today is thanks to what I went through, because it was tough then I learned to not limit myself but to accept challenge and know that if I overcame adjusting to a total new world I can do anything. I eventually learned the language and I am working on mastering my skills in it. I will overall add more details, reflection and connection.

Blog Entry #4 - Class #4

I was born in Venezuela and came to this country on a December 24th, we had a white Christmas that year and I remember everything looked beautiful. I was 9-years-old and I didn't quite understood the fact that we were coming to live here. I was in the middle of 5th grade and after Christmas pasted and all the fun was over, I was enrolled in school. It wasn't really until I started school here that I fully understood what coming to this country to live was all about. I was in a new school, a new country, with no friends. I was terrified; there was no going back. I didn't understand the fact that I wasn't going to go back to my country, my school, and my friends. I was here with my family and that made me feel a little better but things just got worst when I was faced with the fact that I had to learn a new language, a new culture, I was forced to have a new life; I had no other choice.

I remember being in school, my teacher spoke Spanish to all the class since I was enrolled in the bilingual program. That was very nice actually, it helped me feel better about being in a different world; at least my teacher and my class mates spoke my language but I still had to learn the English language. Things were so frustrating that even the smallest things made me feel terrible. I remember being in my math class with my Spanish speaking teacher and during that time she was teaching us how to divide. Is all numbers right? How hard could it be? Well, at that moment I realized that it was actually different. What I mean by that is that in the United States they divide backwards; when you are solving a division problem manually you have to draw a line, plug in the numbers and then you subtract and eventually solve the division problem. Well, in Venezuela they draw the line backwards, there is no subtraction written and eventually you get the answer.

So, picture me, I am sitting in class and this impacted me so much that I can see myself setting in that classroom like it was yesterday. My teacher says to me not to worry and to just solve the division problem the way they do it in my country and that with time I’ll get the hang of how it is done here. So, I am sitting there, starring at the numbers because guess what? I was in the middle of the school year and I didn't know how to do it the way they do it in my country either. I felt horrible, stock and I didn't know how to tell my teacher in front of everybody that I didn't know how to solve a division problem. So I wasn't only struggling with English, but with Math as well. Eventually I got the hang of solving that way they do it here, it was actually easier, I guess. Besides this craziness I was faced with having to learn inches, feet and miles instead of centimeters, meters, and kilometers; what a crazy country! I thought. It was like even the smallest things were different and I had to learn everything. It took me a long time to get the hang of things, and I always felt behind. You would think kids learn faster or pick things up pretty quickly but it wasn't the case with me. I was very shy and intimidated by all these changes so I was moving forward very slowly. I stayed in the bilingual program for a long time, from the middle of 5th grade all the way up to senior year in high school; that’s more than average I would think. I stayed for that long because I refused to put into practice what I was learning in English, I was in the bilingual program after all so I thought I could just stayed there forever. My teachers and class mates spoke Spanish so I thought I could get away with it. After so long I learned regardless, I understood a lot of what people would speak around me but I was so afraid of speaking. I refused to speak or make an effort because I was so intimidated by the, what if I don’t pronounce something correctly or what if I say the wrong thing. I never felt completely comfortable to let myself go all the way and just practice to get better at it. Every time I would start to get comfortable my family would move so every certain amount of time I had to go to a new school, be afraid all over again and have to get adjusted to a whole new environment.

So that you can keep track with how many times I moved, I’ll break it down for you. First, I came to this country when I had been in the same school in Venezuela since I was in kinder garden. My lifetime friends were there. Then we came to this country and I was in one school from mid-year of 5th grade until mid-year of 7th grade. Then, we moved so I changed schools and attended there from mid-year 7th grade until I graduated 8th grade. Then I was off to high school, I had to change schools anyway. So I was there for three and a half years then I had to move again. So after all my high school memories with friends I had finally made I had to start all new again. In the month of January, I continued my senior year and graduated in a brand new school. I didn't attended prom because I didn't really know anybody that I could go with me; I was introduced by a couple of people but they weren't my friends really so I decided not to go. I didn't appeared in the year book because I came too late in the school year and I appeared on my prior high school’s  year book but I was unable to buy it.

So, going back a little I want to mention that by about sophomore year in high school I was willing to speak English only when I had to, like to some teachers, personnel in the cafeteria or if anybody needed help translating. But I still didn't feel all that comfortable. All my friends spoke Spanish and I spoke Spanish at home so there was no big need to put into practice what I had learned. When senior year started they transfer me to regular classes, meaning I was no longer in the bilingual program; all the classes were taught in English, the teachers didn't speak Spanish. So my class mates weren't the same anymore. A couple of the kids from the bilingual program were transferred to regular class as well so I at least knew some people.

So since I was transferred to a new school in January even worst during my senior year, I didn't get a chance to make new memories. I made two friends there whom I can’t really remember how we started talking since I was a senior and they were a junior and a freshman. They were so nice to me though and they introduce me to a couple of more people but they were all in lower grades than me and we weren't friends. One special person was introduced to me back then though, and that is my current boyfriend, yes that’s how we met. We weren't really close then, and even though we were both seniors and we started to like each other a little it wasn’t enough to go to prom together…

So after all the craziness of moving from one place to another and being in new environments, I eventually felt like there was a reason for me to have moved all the way here and even to transfer schools in the middle of my senior year.

I am very glad I met my boyfriend, it probably would've never happened if I would've not changed schools. We have been together in many adventures and we continue to make new memories. We have great plans for our future including getting married and forming a family. I don’t know if it was so bad to have had to come to this country after all. I’m in love, I’m now an English major-Writing Option. I’m in a happy stage of my life. I now understand that what you go through only makes you stronger even if you are frustrate it. I understand that God has a perfect plan for my life even when I think things don’t make sense.

 Who would've thought that I was going to become an English Major after not even wanting to speak the language? I love the fact that I am able to speak two languages and help those who are still in the process of learning the language.

Blog entry #3 - Class #3

Blog 3 – Due: 9/25/13

As we moved forward in the class I felt like I was stock on picking a topic. What I struggled with the most was thinking that I had to be about something creative that was TRUE and at the same time connect with my audience. I am used to writing Fiction or Non-Fiction events that I added things to, to make it more exciting. So writing CNF is a challenge for me. In the mist of thinking about a topic for this essay I encounter some ideas in my head that I experience which were exiting and life changing for me. These are just some possibilities for my topic:

1.       A trip to Peru - In 2010 I went to Peru with my boyfriend and his family. This was an unforgettable experience for me. It was the first time I was going so far away with my boyfriend’s family. At the time we had been going out for almost three years and even though I was pretty comfortable with his family who live here, I didn't really know everybody there; this made me a little nervous. I was going to be alone in a different country staying at someone’s house that I didn't really know. Visiting a new country was so exciting for me. Peru is known for having beautiful places so I was looking forward to visiting as much as I could from it. In the US there are many Peruvian restaurants where I had the opportunity to try their dishes, now I was going to their actual country so I was looking forward to try their dishes made in Peru. The whole experience was incredible. I visited many cities there, took over 1000 pictures!! with my camera and the people there were extremely nice. It was a one in a lifetime experience for me and since I went there I can’t wait until I go back. There were many views there that were just incredible. I tried taking pictures of everything but sometimes the pictures I took just couldn't compare to the beauty my eyes saw.

2.       A trip to Portugal and Spain - I’m from Venezuela a beautiful country in South America. There they don’t celebrate a sweet sixteen for young girls. They, instead make a huge party when the young girls turn 15. I was already living in this country when my 15^th birthday was coming up. I didn't really want a huge party to celebrate such event so my mother gave me the option to pick between having a party or taking a trip. I chose a trip. My mom and I went to Portugal and Spain for two weeks. It was beautiful. Going to Portugal was exciting and after about three days there I understood more what they were saying. Although Spanish and Portuguese have similar words when Portuguese speaking people speak they go so fast that I can barely understand them. During my trip I noticed that people from Spain had a different accent than mine although we were both speaking Spanish. This I already knew but it was fascinating to be in their country and hear them speak. There is something about language that always interests me and it is very nice for me to hear people from different countries speak.

3.       A trip to Canada - I went to Canada in 2008 with a group of about 50. Some included family members and my boyfriend. The rest were students and professors. We drove there on a “RV”—search the correct name. The drive was long (search how many hours). We slept and talk and slept and talked some more. When we finally arrive we took a trip around the Niagara Falls, we took many pictures, we went during the winter, it was frizzing but it was fun. We stayed there for like about a week and I was just so excited about staying a hotel. There is just something special about hotels, they just make me feel like I’m in an unknown place where I’ll have fun and fun and fun. Everything is just so clean and perfectly organized.

4.       Changing my permanent address to an USA location – I was 9 years old when I came to this country, this is probably one of the events that impacted my life so much. Everything changed for me. My world suddenly just wasn’t the same anymore. I was told by my mother we were moving but I couldn’t really understand what this meant until I found myself in a new country, a new school, far away from the rest of my family member. A new language, new food, new seasons. I arrived to this country on December 24^th, it was a snowy day. It was fun at the very beginning but it was such a challenge for me when the months went by. I had to make new friends, I had to learn a total different language, I had to get adjusted to the food here. … eventually things got better and my life would’ve never been the same if I would’ve stayed in my country… or maybe it would’ve… I’ll never really know or maybe one day I’ll find out. But for the moment this is my address, it has been for more than ten years, I’m still growing up and experiencing new things.

These are some options I have to write my essay, but I am still not sure if I’ll be able to write a successful CNF piece with these events I’ve lived in my life. 

Blog entry #2 - Class #2

CNF definition – According to what I have read so far about CNF, this is a genre of writing where the truth plays a big role. Aside from maintaining your essay in first person and writing through the “I” of yourself, it was mentioned that there is an explanation to how much truth you put out there. The readings by Lott and Gutkind helped clear things out in this matter because they explained that the writer has to write as much truth as possible, know that they are not fabricating anything and write as best as they can recall. The readers can right away question how much truth does your essay has because they will be expecting absolute truth.                                                 

I was having trouble understanding the truth part because how can a CNF writer have so many true stories that can meet the creative side of the nonfiction? How can we go beyond documents and interviews and incorporate the creative part without jeopardizing the nonfiction and keeping it truth all the way? Well, this cleared up to me when in the article by Gutkind it was said that “there are no rules, laws, specific prescriptions relating to what to do and not to do as a creative nonfiction writer.” After all, the “creative nonfiction police is ourselves.”

In addition, Lott said that we won’t know CNF all the way until we experience it. The learning of this definition is through experience. The following help understand even more what is important to keep in mind about the definition of CNF:

• 1^st : “Strive for the truth” – we may not remember the true events accurately to a hundred percent but as a writer we should try to stick to the truth as best as we can remember without making anything up.

• 2^nd: “Recognize the important distinction between recollected conversation and fabricated dialogue.”- we need to make sure that as we write we don’t add to the dialogue, if we can’t remember how things were said then we should assumed what was said our make up what was said.

•  3^rd: “Don’t round corners” – we can’t adjust the story to make it more dramatic, we should stick to what we originally remember as best possible.

•  4^th: - Allow your characters to read what you wrote about them. Writing CNF means that you will be using characters whom are real people, we should at least let them know we are writing about them.

What was left out – Although all the definitions read are helpful and complete I feel like they left out the explanation about how can we maintain the privacy of our characters? What if our characters don’t what us to use their real names? Would this still be CNF, or would it make it Fiction because their names are not real? Would this be unethical?

Also, in the reading by Gutkind he mentioned that someone question him about how can he possibly remember something that occurred months ago accurately. So, is there a limit in time when you have to write your story down, like if your story occurred years ago, can you still write about it and make it CNF. Are you running the risk that this would have more fiction unintentionally because it occurred too long ago? What are the thoughts about this, if any?

How are definitions of creative nonfiction changing in light of digital publishing? – Well, in today’s technology we can pretty much write on anything whenever we can or want. We can post something on any of our social media accounts or any web base surface. These, including perhaps small pieces created by immature writers, writers wanting to open themselves to the public in a less formal way.  Writing in the digital world is more open, I think. You can basically post anything without having someone tell you that your piece is not worth publishing. I think that the definition of CNF still goes right along with the digital publishing, unless while writing digitally the writer decides to change things a bit, making it fiction. I think that people do CNF writing many times in the digital world through their social media accounts unintentionally. Many times you’ll find people writing small paragraphs about their feeling or how they truly feel about something that occurred to them. Even if you are the only judge of what you write, because only you know whether what you wrote is true or not, as long as is true, even in the digital world it is still CNF.